


Blush

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Nipple Play, PWP, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 01:44:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17437526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladio’s single-minded sometimes.





	Blush

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Ignis' past lovers has never really paid much attention to his chest so imagine his surprise when he gets with Gladio who really zeroes in and focuses on his nipples, drawing out the most embarrassing and obscene noises.” prompt on [the FFXV Kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5690.html?thread=11433786#cmt11433786).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Ignis is almost always early, and the only exceptions to that rule are when sudden royal duties dictate otherwise. His boyfriend, on the other hand, is only ever punctual to training. He fully expects to have an extra fifteen minutes to use, though he’s still on track for six o’clock—the time when Gladiolus theoretically _should_ show up to take him to the restaurant. It thus comes as a great shock when his front door opens ten minutes early.

He can hear it from his bedroom, because despite his generous salary, his apartment’s relatively small, and his bedroom door is open. The washroom’s open too, the shower fan still working to dispel any lingering steam. Standing before his wardrobe in just a towel, Ignis hears the telltale footsteps of his massive lover. The heavy footfalls give Gladiolus away, as does the lack of a knock—they’ve had the key to each other’s places for several months. That familiarity keeps Ignis from heading out to greet his guest. Instead, he stays where he is, sorting through his more casual shirts in an effort to choose the one Gladiolus will most want to later tear off him.

“Hey, Iggy—” Gladiolus starts, before cutting himself off. Ignis turns to flash him a smile.

“You’re early. I’ll just be a minute.”

Gladiolus nods, but in that distant sort of way that says he didn’t really hear what Ignis said. By now, Ignis can read Gladiolus like a book. But it wouldn’t take an expert or the precision of his glasses to notice that Gladiolus is starting at him rather pointedly, and not at his face, but straight at his chest.

It’s not like they’ve never seen each other naked before. Gladiolus has certainly seen Ignis shirtless less than the other way around—Ignis prefers to be meticulously dressed, whether or not the man on his arm is strutting around with everything on display. But Gladiolus has still _seen_ him. Then again, Ignis tends to dim the lights when they make love. 

With a self-conscious flush to his cheeks, Ignis chalks it up to Gladiolus sizeable appetite and decides to ignore it. He returns his attention to his wardrobe, plucking out a black v-neck design.

He doesn’t get a chance to put it on. Suddenly Gladiolus is right next to him, ducking under his outstretched arm to put them chest-to-chest, and then Gladiolus’ hands are _on him_. The moment they ghost over his hips, Ignis warns, “Gladio, we have a reservation—”

Gladiolus doesn’t seem to hear him, instead running up Ignis’ side, smoothing over Ignis’ abs, and splaying over his pectorals, digging in _hard_. A surprised grunt spills out of Ignis’ mouth. He drops the shirt behind Gladiolus’ back. Gladiolus’ palms rub over him in short but aggressive circles. Gladiolus’ deep voice rumbles over him, “Why don’t we ever shower together, Iggy? I don’t think I’ve seen you wet before...”

Ignis isn’t really _wet_. He’s slightly damp at the most, and he means to say so, but Gladiolus’ large hands kneading his chest have his breathing skipping beats. It takes him a moment to answer, “You... you’ve seen me in the rain...”

“I don’t think I’ve seen your _tits_ wet,” Gladiolus corrects, which has Ignis’ cheeks heating exponentially.

“I would hardly call them _that_ —” Ignis breaks off when Gladiolus’ thumbs replace his palms, digging right into Ignis’ nipples, then withdrawing to pinch them both at once. Ignis lets out a wholly undignified whine and doesn’t miss the way it makes the corner of Gladiolus’ lips turn up. He pinches Ignis again, tugging the little nubs, and Ignis’ brain temporarily short-circuits.

“Anyone ever tell you you’ve got really cute nipples?” Gladiolus asks. His voice is practically a purr, with just the barest hint of a chuckle, and Ignis tries to shake his head but winds up tossing it back instead, gasping as Gladiolus ducks down to lick a wet stripe between his hands. Both of Ignis’ arms fly to Gladiolus’ shoulders, five fingers tangling in Gladiolus’ hair, but they can’t seem to decide whether to pull Gladiolus away or hold him in. Gladiolus nips at his skin and kisses to the left, enormous tongue lapping over to Ignis’ nipple. No one’s ever told him anything like that before. He’s never had this kind of attention. And he feels like it’s crude and unseemly, but something about it’s making his knees weak. When Gladiolus latches onto him, clamping down with blunt teeth and sucking hard, Ignis cries out in wanton delight.

Gladiolus has the nerve to suckle on him for a moment before pulling off enough to muse, “They’re sensitive, too. You should’ve told me—I would’ve been playing with them since our first date.”

Ignis makes an inhuman noise of mingled shame and pleasure. It feels so _good_ , both Gladiolus’ warm mouth around him and Gladiolus large fingers pinching him—Gladiolus works both nubs at once. By the time he pulls off the left one, it’s an angry red, raw and abused, and even Gladiolus’ final, kittenish lick has Ignis moaning incoherently. Then Gladiolus pushes it down with his thumb while he licks and kisses his way over to the other one. The heat of Gladiolus’ mouth, the dull scrape of his teeth, the spongy texture of his tongue and the skill with which he uses it all has Ignis writhing. He belatedly realizes that Gladiolus is the only thing holding him up. When Gladiolus moans around his mouthful, Ignis is sure he’s going to burst.

He’s rock hard. He doesn’t know how that happened. Suddenly, his lone towel’s too much clothing, and he can’t stand what his boyfriend’s doing. He needs _more_. But Gladiolus seems obsessed with his chest, and when he tries to tug at Gladiolus’ hair, Gladiolus only chuckles and lightly bites down. Ignis nearly comes from that alone. 

He has a foggy recollection of their reservation. He doesn’t care about that anymore. With a sudden burst of strength, he shoves Gladiolus off. Gladiolus relinquishes his grip with a wet pop, leaving Ignis’ chest heaving and over-stimulated. 

For one sizzling moment, Gladiolus stares at Ignis like a ravenous wolf. Then he lunges forward again, scooping Ignis up beneath the knees, and before Ignis knows what’s happening, he’s being carried to the bed. 

He’s tossed onto it, his towel’s ripped away, and then Gladiolus descends on him, and Ignis doesn’t have one complaint in the world.


End file.
